克米特·谢尔比

Nobody wanted to pick up mama’s new helper that morning. But we drew straws and I was it. The February wind kept spitting snow as I cranked up2 the old Ford. I was blind angry.

This poker-faced3 Nora Bruce and I would have to ride past the schoolhouse. If the other kids saw us I might as well quit school， the way they teased a fellow. Nora being nineteen and my being twelve had something to do with the teasing too.

To make matters worse， here came mama carrying out the foot warmer. The foot warmer was four hot bricks buried in sawdust and tied in a burlap bag. “Oh mama，” I said.

“Now young man you stop acting like John D. Rockefeller，” mama said. “Nora’s old shoes were thin as paper. I noticed in church yesterday. I’d send my Sunday coat， only she would be too stiff-necked4 proud to wear it. Now you be nice to Nora， she’s had it tough.”

Nora’s folks lived in back of a cornfield in an old sway-backed5 house， but they were moving to Arkansas， so Nora was coming to stay with us. Two men with long hair and blue jumpsuits were loading their stove in a wagon when I got there.

Nora came walking towards me carrying extra clean clothes. The wind blew her thin coat. Her dress was clean but faded. Three little kids ran after her， crying， “Nodie Nodie.” Instead of shoes， they wore pieces of an old hat sewed moccasin6 fashion. The snow was ankle deep.

“Now， now，” Nora stooped， hugging all three at once. “If you want shoes， you’ll have to let Nodie go earn ’em.” She kissed them each and climbed in the Ford.

“Hurry，” she said. We bounced down the lane and Nora waved once， then wiped her eyes on the ends of the scarf tied round her head. “That wind is cold，” she said. “They’re not your brothers and sisters are they， Nora？” I asked.

“They’re step-brothers and sisters. But that doesn’t keep me from loving them， does it？” She sounded almost angry. I got to thinking how it would be if dad had died and mama had to get married again to have a place to stay， like Nora’s mother had. If I were Nora， maybe I’d be poker-faced too.

When I reached home that night from school， Nora was churning. She stood straight and let the churn dasher fall as if it were big business. I kept wishing she would smile. “Do you play the piano， Nora？” mama asked hopeful. “No.” Nora’s lips were a straight line.

“I could trade turkey eggs to Miss Thompson to teach you. It wouldn’t cost a penny to learn.”

“I came here to work for my board and clothes， Mrs Betts. Not to play the piano. I don’t want to be in debt.”

“You mustn’t be so proud child. Try to look at it as if you were my daughter. We want to give you a few advantages.”

“I don’t want folks doing favours for me just because I’m poor and they’re sorry for me. That’s the same as begging.”

“My， my. Independent too.” Mama’s smile was the merry-scheming kind. “We’ll see.”

Ordinarily Luke， our hired man， forgot to comb his hair. Tonight he slicked it down carefully. At the table he kept passing things to Nora. She seemed embarrassed at seeing so much food on the table. She took birdlike helpings7.

“You’ll have to eat more than that， Nora，” Dad urged， “or you’ll lose your figure.”

Nora gave him a straight look. “My figure isn’t much， Mr Betts， but it’s what the good Lord gave me.” Luke said hurriedly， “I think slender girls look nice.”

On Saturday Nora rode to town with us in the Ford. “Here’s your week’s wages， Nora.” Mama counted out six dollars. Nora shook her head. “That’s a full week. I didn’t start till Wednesday.” “We don’t punch a time clock8 at our house， Nora.” Mama held out the two bills. Nora’s mouth made a straight line. “I’ll take what I earn. No more.”

“Goodness.” Mama borrowed two one-dollar bills from dad and kept the five. “Are we even now， Nora？” “We’re even，” Nora said. She folded the bills carefully.

“When we get to town，” mama said， smiling， “I’d like to have you help me pick out some dress goods.”

Nora looked interested. “What kind of dress did you have in mind？”

“They’re for you. I thought three or four ginghams9 for everyday and a pretty silk for Sunday. And shoes perhaps.”

Nora shook her head. “I haven’t earned ’em yet. I’d be in debt to you.” “What am I going to do with you， Nora？” Mama sounded helpless and exasperated10. “You can’t have something for nothing， Mrs Betts，” Nora said. “I don’t want to be obligated11.”

Nora wouldn’t go inside the dry goods12 store when we got to town. “I got business at the post-office，” she said， and walked off.

While dad and I were buying groceries mama brought some packages out and laid them on the back car seat. When all of us started home mama asked， “What kept you in the drug store13 so long Nora？”

Nora said， “I got my eye on a crochet needle. I may buy it later.” “How much did it cost？” mama asked. “Twenty-five cents.” “But you had three dollars Nora.” “I did have.” Nora held up a money order stub14. “I sent two seventy-five to Arkansas for the kids. Then I had to buy the money order15 and pay for the stamp.”

I said， “It’s for them to buy shoes， isn’t it Nora？” She nodded. “I promised.”

Mama wiped at her eyes. “I declare， this dust is awful16，” she said.

Later mama opened up the bundles. She laid three gingham pieces on Nora’s knees. Nora looked down at the gingham but didn’t touch it. “It’s pretty，” she said. “They’re yours， child.” Mama unwound the last bundle. “This one’s special. I want you to have them for your birthday.” Mama shook out the wrinkles. It was red silk. A sort of fire-engine colour.

“My birthday’s six months off.” Nora touched the silk with one finger. Like she had to. She rubbed her finger afterwards like a kitten tasting cream. She shook her head sadly. “I couldn’t. I’d be in debt for life.”

“Nora， Nora.” Mama sounded gently chiding17. “You have to take in order to learn how to give. See， I bought a real pretty pattern. And I just love to sew.”

“How much？” Nora asked. “It was charge18，” mama said. “I forgot to ask how much. But we don’t have to pay for it till next fall.”

Nora’s big eyes regarded her steadily. “How much？” Mama sighed and held out the charge ticket.

Nora read the figures， troubled. “Eight dollars and sixty-eight cents. It’s cut off19 now.” She sounded like someone talking to herself. “I promised to buy three pairs of shoes. That comes first. Do you think the store would take it back and hold it until I get the shoes paid out？”

“Nora， let me and John buy the shoes，” mama offered.

“They’re my kinfolks， Mrs Betts and I don’t want them begging. I can’t wear the dresses until they’re paid for. I would be using something that didn’t belong to me.”

“Anyway， I can make them for you， Nora，” mama said， sounding tired. “We can keep them back like a savings account.”

“After I pay for the first gingham one，” Nora said. “I will put it on and wear it. Not before.” She added， “But I thank you for them.”

“Child， child，” mama said， concerned and troubled.

（To be continued）

那天早上，沒人想去接妈妈新找的帮手。于是我们抽签决定谁去接，结果抽到了我。2月的风不停吐着雪花，我启动那辆旧福特，心里升起莫名的怒火。

我和板着个脸的诺拉·布鲁斯开车必须路过学校。如果其他孩子看见我们，就他们奚落同伴的劲儿，我还不如退学算了。诺拉19岁，而我12岁，这也成了他们奚落的缘由。

更糟的是，妈妈带着脚炉来了。脚炉是四块热砖做的，外面用锯屑包着，捆在麻袋里。“哦，妈妈。”我说。

“你这年轻人，就别当自己是约翰·D.洛克菲勒了！”妈妈说，“诺拉的旧鞋跟纸一样薄，我昨天在教堂就注意到了。我本想把礼拜天外套送给她，可她梗着脖子要面子不肯穿。你可要对诺拉好点，她过得不容易。”

诺拉的家人住在玉米田后面的一座就要塌陷的老房子里，不过他们就要搬到阿肯色州，因此诺拉过来和我们住。我到的时候，两个留着长发、身穿蓝色连衫裤的男人正在往一辆马车里装炉子。

诺拉拿着几件干净的衣服朝我走来。风吹起她薄薄的外衣。她的衣服挺干净，但已经褪色。三个小孩子跟在她身后，边跑边叫：“诺迪，诺迪！”他们没有鞋，脚上穿的是缝成平底鞋样子的破帽布片。雪深到脚踝。

“好啦，好啦，”诺拉蹲下身，把三个孩子一起拥入怀中，“你们要鞋子，就得让诺迪去给你们挣啊。”她吻了吻每个孩子，爬上福特车。

“快走！”她说道。我们的车沿着小路颠簸而去，诺拉回头挥了一次手，然后用裹在头上的围巾边擦眼睛。“风真冷。”她说。

“他们不是你的亲生弟妹吧，诺拉？”我问她。

“他们是继父的孩子，但这并不妨碍我爱他们，对吗？”她的语气似乎有些不高兴。我暗暗想，如果我爸爸死了，妈妈为了安身再嫁，就像诺拉的妈妈一样，换作我，我也会板着个脸吧。

那天晚上，我从学校回到家，诺拉正在搅拌牛奶。她直着身板，让搅乳器落下，好像在干一件了不起的事情。我一直希望她会笑。“你弹钢琴吗，诺拉？”妈妈满怀期待地问，“不会。”诺拉的嘴唇绷成了一条直线。

“我可以用火鸡蛋跟汤普森小姐交换，让她教你弹琴，不花一分钱。”

“贝茨太太，我是为衣食来这里工作的，不是来学钢琴的。我不想欠债。”

“孩子，你可不能这么傲气。你就把自己当作我女儿吧。我们是想让你多学点东西，以后有用。”

“我不想别人因为我穷就施舍我，可怜我，这和乞讨没什么两样。”

“我的天，你还很独立。”妈妈笑了，是那种既快乐又有心计的笑，“我们等着瞧。”

我们的雇工卢克一般都想不起要梳头。今天晚上，他特地把头发梳得整整齐齐。在餐桌上，他不停地给诺拉递东西。诺拉看着桌上丰盛的食物，有些局促。她吃得和鸟儿一样少。

“诺拉，你得多吃点，”爸爸督促道，“不然你就瘦得没型了。”

诺拉直直地盯着他：“我身材虽然不好，贝茨先生，但这是主赐给我的。”卢克赶紧说：“我觉得瘦点的女孩好看。”

星期六，诺拉和我们一起坐福特进城。“这是你一周的工资，诺拉。”妈妈数出6美元。诺拉摇摇头。“这是整周的工钱，可我星期三才开始工作。”“我们家工作不打卡，诺拉。”妈妈把两张钞票递给她，诺拉的嘴抿成一条直线。“我只拿我挣的钱，多了不要。”

“好吧。”媽妈从爸爸那里借了两张1美元的钞票，留下5美元那张。“现在对了吗，诺拉？”“对了。”诺拉说。她小心翼翼地叠好钞票。

“我们到城里后，”妈妈笑着说，“我想让你帮我挑几款裙子布料。”

诺拉来了兴趣：“您想做什么样的裙子？”

“是给你的。我想给你做三四款条纹布裙平时穿，再做一条漂亮丝裙礼拜天穿。也许还有鞋子。”

诺拉摇摇头：“我还没挣到买这些的钱，我会欠你的。”“我该拿你怎么办，诺拉？”妈妈有些生气，却又无可奈何。“这世上没有免费的东西，贝茨太太，”诺拉说，“我不想欠别人的。”

进城后，诺拉不愿去布店。“我去邮局办点事。”说完，她就走开了。

我和爸爸买日用杂货时，妈妈把几包东西拿出去放在汽车后座上。大家准备回家时，妈妈问：“诺拉，你怎么在杂货店待了那么久？”

诺拉说：“我看中了一枚钩针，以后可能会买。”“多少钱？”妈妈问。“25美分。”“你有3美元，诺拉。”“是。”诺拉拿出一张汇票存根。“我给阿肯色州的弟妹们寄了2美元75美分，此外还得买汇款单和邮票。”

我问她：“是给他们买鞋用的，对吗，诺拉？”她点点头：“我答应过的。”

妈妈擦了擦眼睛。“我得说，这里的灰尘太多了。”她说。

过了一会儿，妈妈打开几捆布料。她把三块格子布放在诺拉的膝盖上。诺拉低头看着格子布，但没有碰：“很漂亮。”她说。“这都是给你的，孩子。”妈妈打开最后一捆布料：“这块料子很特别，我希望你过生日时能穿上这料子做的衣服。”妈妈抖开布料。那是块红色丝布，有点像消防车的颜色。

“我的生日还有六个月呢。”诺拉不由自主地用一根手指轻抚丝布。之后她搓搓手指，就像一只尝了口奶油的小猫。她摇摇头，有点难过：“我不能要这个，否则我这辈子都还不清了。”

“诺拉，诺拉，”妈妈语气中带着轻微的责备，“你得接受，才能学会给予。瞧，我买的布料图案多漂亮，我就是喜欢缝衣服。”

“多少钱？”诺拉问道。“记在账上了，”妈妈说，“我忘了问价钱，但明年秋天才需要付钱呢。”

诺拉睁大眼睛，一动不动地盯着她：“多少钱？”妈妈叹口气，拿出收费单。

诺拉不安地读着上面的数字：“8美元68美分，这下完了。”她听起来好像在自言自语，“我答应过要买3双鞋。买鞋要紧。您看能不能让商店把这个拿回去帮我留着，等我付完鞋钱后再去取？”

“诺拉，让我和约翰帮你买鞋吧。”妈妈说。

“他们是我的亲人，贝茨太太，我不想让他们乞讨。鞋钱付清之前，我不能穿这些裙子。我不会用不属于自己的东西。”

“无论如何，诺拉，我可以先给你做衣服。”妈妈无奈地说，“我们可以把它们存起来，就像存钱一样。”

“等我付完第一条格子裙的钱之后，”诺拉说，“我就会穿上它，在这之前不行。”她接着说，“但我要谢谢您。”

“孩子啊，孩子。”妈妈说道，既担忧又为难。

（未完待续）

（译者单位：广东外语外贸大学）